


Ten Years Later: Formalities

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jon and Sansa ready themselves for a visit from the Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> very short bit of fluff. hope you all enjoy

A cool breeze jostled Jon's cloak as he shuffled his weight from foot to foot. Around him, the last of the household – guards, servants and the like – were assembling with their banners and arms, preparing for the royal family's arrival.

Beside him Sansa squeezed his hand gently. “Do you remember the last time we had a royal party arrive?” she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, “King Robert, if I recall right. Gods, how could I forget – looking at Joffrey like a lovesick girl.”

Jon laughed, “I was in the back, so I didn't have to worry about things like this.” he japed, picking idly at his tunic. “Now I just feel...exposed. Even more so then when I sit in that chair.”

“It's been ten years, Jon.” she assured him. “You've conducted yourself in a manner that Father would approve of, I know it. This is just another duty we have to perform as Lord and Lady Stark, after all.”

Behind them Jon felt someone bump into his back. Turning around, he rolled his eyes and gestured to the empty spot on his right. “Torrhen, you know the Queen will be here in minutes – where were you?” he asked, the boy fighting an urge to smile.

“I had to get my practice sword ready, Father.” he replied, settling in next to Jon. “Jerys will be here and we need to spar, of course.” Brushing his hair back from his eyes, Torrhen fiddled with the blade fastened to his hip.

Sansa held out her hand. “Give me the blade, Torrhen.” she commanded, looking stern. “You know no blades are to be in the presence of the Queen save for those of our guard.”

Eyes widening, he looked to Jon with a pleading expression. “Father, please!” he pouted, “you know how difficult it is to find a good sparring partner!”

His son was ever the Stark, Jon chuckled to himself. Even at ten he was a skilled swordsman – having bested all of the children of the servants and visiting lords – and was eager to duel with Daenerys's son for the first time.

“Listen to your mother.” he said simply. One had to be firm yet gentle with their children just as they must with retainers; it was one of the earliest lessons that he recalled from his own father's lessons that Robb was happy to let him sit in on.

With a grunt of annoyance he slipped the blade off his hip and thrust it into Sansa's hand, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

“If you misbehave in front of the royal party -” Sansa started to say before a horn cut her short.

Jon stood as straight as he could, shooing the others to their places. “Here we go...” he mumbled as the first of the Queensguard entered the courtyard.

 

* * *

Daenerys had chosen a white and red armored dress, a mix of cloth and steel. She looked a female version of Aegon the Conqueror, Jon mused. As she exited the carriage the whole of the Stark household and its members went to their knees, Jon leading them in this gesture.

Within moments she stepped in front of him. “Stand up, Lord Stark.” she commanded.

Rising carefully to his feet Jon bowed his head. “Your Grace, Winterfell is yours.” he offered, and noticed that she was smiling somewhat as she observed him.

“Enough of the formalities.” she exhaled, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

It had taken some getting used to for Jon to develop a familial relationship with his aunt – a woman who was practically his own age – but Daenerys had expressed time and time again that she was just grateful to not be the last full-blooded Targaryen. Even though he was a Stark by royal decree, she treated Jon as family all the same.

As she hugged Sansa, Daenerys looked to Torrhen. “And you must be Torrhen,” she grinned, gesturing to the lumbering convoy of horses and wagons. “Jerys has talked about nothing more then seeing you again.”

That earned her a huge smile from the boy, who looked smugly at his parents.

"Say anything and you are grounded for the rest of your life." Jon shot back, barely able to hide the smirk on his face.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen and King Consort have a secondary purpose to coming to Winterfell.

Jon watched as Torrhen and Jerys prepared to spar below. “Jerys seems to know how to handle himself well,” he observed, looking to Daenerys. “clearly you've had some excellent teachers show him how it's done.”

The Queen nodded. “Torrhen – well, it's all the Starks do is fight, no?” she teased.

“Not all the time,” he snickered, shaking his head. “just most of the time.”

Turning to him she relaxed her posture. “I'm glad you agreed to host us.” she admitted with a sigh, “I do hate imposing on you like this, but the politics of ruling are...more then I could have imagined.”

The past decade had seen an era of peace for the Seven Kingdoms, it was true; yet Jon knew that the young monarch would struggle under the immense weight of the Iron Throne and all it represented. “Sometimes I envy you and Sansa.”

Yet even for all of the burdens she bore, Jon's own was still a nagging and troublesome one. “It...it hasn't been easy, even now. It still is strange to me in the back of my mind to make love to someone I once considered a sister.” he noted, “but it has gotten...easier.”

“Add to that motherhood and – well, sometimes I miss being a Khaleesi.” she added, resting her arm on the railing.

“Not too late, you know.” Jon pointed out, “you could always go to the Dothraki Sea and round up the khals. I'm sure they still worship you as a goddess or great horse lord.” It was almost a relief for him that the horsemen were not in Westeros in large numbers anymore.

Daenerys slapped his arm, rolling her eyes. “I sent them away because I knew they would never be able to integrate into our lands. Aside from the few hundred that remain...” she trailed off, another heavy sigh escaping her lips.

“Tyrion reminds me constantly that I shouldn't have just sent them back to pillage and rape, but what else could I do? Slaughter hundreds of thousands of men, women and children because their way of life does not match with ours?”

Nodding, Jon knew the story well. He had consulted with her – as had the other Lords Paramount – in regards to the Dothraki. “You made the best choice for the realm. No shame in that.”

“Enough about royal matters – tell me, I hear you and Sansa are trying for another child.” she said, abruptly switching topics.

That caught him off guard; Jon groaned inwardly as a result. “Seven hells – who told you?”

Holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender, the Queen laughed. “If you must know, Bran mentioned it when he hosted us at Greywater. Don't bring the fury of Winterfell down on him – he thought it was a good idea.”

 _Of course Bran would say something_ , Jon thought with some humor. “I bet he watches us make love when he's feeling ornery.” he snickered.

“Cortis and I have thought about a second,” she admitted. “the realm would need a second Targaryen to help encourage our blood's survival.”

Jon nodded. “I assume there's no plan to marry relatives?” he asked.

Daenerys shook her head. “We need new blood in our family.” she said, her tone firm and authoritative – as a Queen should be. “Do people think that Westeros can move beyond the Mad King if we keep inbreeding? No – how long until there is another like my father?”

“I couldn't tell you.” he admitted. It was a valid concern for any monarch.

A moment of silence fell between them. “I confess to having another reason to travel here.” she announced, looking to him with an apologetic gaze. “It's...not a pleasant subject but something that has to be dealt with.”

Nodding, Jon braced himself for whatever she was to say next. _It could be anything,_ he told himself, yet the fear and anxiety began to bubble inside of his stomach all the same.

“We should find Lady Stark and my husband first.”

* * *

Jon squeezed Sansa's hand gently as they watched Daenerys pacing before the heart tree. “I do not mean to force this choice upon the two of you, but – as I told you, Jon – it has to be done.” she sighed, looking to her husband. “Were there another way...”

“What is it, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, raising a slender brow. She eyed Jon with some concern as the Queen ceased her steps.

It was the King-Consort who spoke next. “As the two of you know – in the interest of security and stability of the realm, we have kept Cersei Lannister at Casterly Rock as per Lord Tyrion's advice.” he ran a hand through his hair, “but now that a decade of said security has fell upon us, the people are crying out for her to face justice.”

This was nothing that surprised either of them. “The only justice she deserves is the headsman's axe,” Jon spat, voice full of contempt. “but I suppose things have to be carried out the proper way.”

“No matter what you do, Your Grace -” Sansa warned, folding her arms across her chest, “you cannot allow her a moment of grandstanding. She will twist the knife in and try to unravel everything that has taken her power.”

Daenerys patted her husband on the shoulder, causing him to sigh heavily. “We cannot try her ourselves – no one would recognize that as any kind of justice. But the High Septon and the Faith – they are demanding that she face the throne for her actions with the Great Sept.” she revealed, “and they are quite insistent upon it, not that I can blame them.”

“I suppose this has something to do with us?” Jon finally asked, getting to the root of the subject.

“We would like for the Lords-Paramount to try her instead. To show a united Westeros, standing above those who once deigned to be its despot.” Lord Velaryon turned to face the heart tree. “yet I know from your histories with the South that it would be a tremendous task.”

Sansa said nothing, merely shifting her eyes to the ground. She kept her arms folded over her chest, tapping her fingers lightly. Her face betrayed no emotion; she simply seemed to be lost in thought as Jon shook his head.

“Why would I want to go back there?” Jon asked with a frustrated sigh, “because it seems every Stark that goes south ends up in some kind of circumstance that denies them the right to return home. Our father, Sansa, Robb..”

Having taken a seat on the rocks near the heart tree, Sansa looked at the royal family. “It would give our family – and the families of the others she has hurt – some sense of closure.” she nodded, “but Jon's concerns are just as valid.”

“I don't expect an answer right now,” Daenerys extended an olive branch. “all I ask is that you think it over tonight.”

* * *

Turning away from the window Jon finished buttoning his shirt. “Sansa, after what happened -”

“I know, Jon.” she huffed, shaking her head. “Even still, I want to go. It will help us – help me – get some closure with that woman.” She squeezed one of her hands into a ball, digging her nails into the palm.

Sitting down on the edge of their bed, Jon reached out and put a hand over hers. “I am only trying to look out for you. You know that, right?” he asked, offering another of his gentle smiles. The offer of being a part of Cersei's trial still hung over the pair – and it was a solemn decision that the pair found themselves with making.

Relaxing her hand, Sansa sighed as she wiped the drops of blood from her palm. “I know – I'm sorry. But this is something I have to do – not just for me, but for our family.”

Jon knew all too well what she meant. Father, Robb, Arya, Sansa – they had all suffered at the hands of the Lannisters. Now and only now after ten long years was a chance at some measure of justice for the fallen and the ones who still live.

“We should go as a family, then.” Jon suggested, “gods know Torrhen would love to spend more time with Jerys.” The two boys were nearly inseparable as they sparred, played and competed against one another in everything from archery to horse riding in the godswood.

It only made Jon feel that much more guilty for not being able to give him a sibling sooner.

Lighting one of the candles on the table, Sansa chuckled. “I don't see why not.”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, though..” Jon frowned, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Well, I suppose we could ask Bran and Meera to act as regent until we return, no?”

“One thing, Jon.” she said, rolling onto her side to face him. “We bring Ghost with us. Just as...an added bonus.” she smirked, eyes darting to the large wolf sleeping at the door to their chambers. “Give some of those pompous Southron lords a fright.”

Settling himself into the bed, Jon laughed heartily. “Goodnight, Sansa.”

* * *

 


End file.
